The wave climbs over
Envelops me with colors
In transparency
Texture crashes all around
Dancing in the undertow
Tag: Misc.
The sadness of war
Contrasted with the simple
Yellow Warbler’s song
Bringing such melancholy
On an early Sunday morn
Past the second page,
Bordered in snow white edge,
Vibrant color floods,
Encapsulating something,
Truly wicked and divine.
So many fragments
Single lines or dry couplets
Unfinished seedlings
Left to fallow in the wake
Of a long and busy week
You can certainly try
Is it Thursday yet?
A common enough refrain
Imbued with meaning
To those initiated
Into a Critical cult
Imagination
The perfect rollercoaster
Human emotion
Distilled into liquid fear
Or an effervescent joy
The page and I stare
Blankly back at each other.
A game of chicken.
“How do you write poetry
When days all run together?”
Each spring they gather
From all corners of the World
Ink at the ready
Listen closely, Close your eyes
You can hear the poets sing.
Ahead I see it
Beyond that greater distance
A thin line broken
By tall peaks dressed in black tie
Gold cuff links and long coat tails
Folding continues
But this time I fold myself
Into new poses
Learning vocabulary
Strength and flexibility